There were yet traditions to support.
Henry Fairfax said good-bye to Mary Ellen upon the gallery of the old home, beneath a solemn, white-faced moon, amid the odours of the drooping honeysuckle.

Had Mary Ellen's eyes not been hid beneath the lids they might have seen a face pale and sad as her own.

They sat silent, for it was no time for human speech.

The hour came for parting, and he rose.

His lips just lightly touched her cheek.